Great hutsulske wedding
When
viewing old photographs, appears stable feeling that recorded on them
will not podilosya not passed, it still takes just our minds already
elsewhere. Everything that we ever had - real, as the starlight that dormant for thousands of years ago. This light is for us here and now. So, they - here and now. Everything that we have - always here and now. Everything goes on and if it could once and for all to understand, maybe we could become sophisticated. Although much has more ...
One of the pictures - we are children, small big guests Guts wedding. August. For thirty years, natural scenery not experienced any changes. In
the background: a steep slope, left bosky precipices, some hazel bushes
below shows cistern vidhorodzhenu flesh from private land, in depth -
another fence that separates the border. Well remember: Friday evening pochulys first sounds of music: violin, accordion, floyarka, cymbals, tambourine, tube. Superb holiday euphoria. Dark, we go to the wedding, spuskayemos with mountains of wells, we meet up to climb over coming musicians play "to vstrichi ...
This wedding, which is most remembered. Marry Payuta Kotseva. Payuta was special, different, and maybe, just seemed to me so. After all, if it seemed, was then. High, thin, with dark hair to the shoulders, that the tip zavyvalosya to top. The view from iskrynkoyu ironically, independence and indifference. My grandmother, talking about Payutu, said sometimes "Kotseva girl. I
was then five years with the word "girl" not associated with Payutoyu,
and I indignantly popravlyala grandmother: "Payuta not celibate, Payuta
- girl. Lass I seemed Annytsya Misotova - crummy, slow, lazy movements and sleepy eyes. Later
decades Annytsya bore two children by septuagenarian man who had a
wife, but took Annytsyu with children themselves, where they lived all
together.
Kotsevi lived near the bottom of the stream - they are out there, but no Payuty. It took a guy with Polyanok. Now she just fifty. I do not know how it is, I suspect that this knowledge could have split the best memories of childhood. Before the wedding I am sad because of separation from loved Payutoyu. However, the wedding has never been so close to our house diymala interest me more than melancholy.
Wedding Dance - a special moment. Each pair of decent Bruegel. Biz,
method and rate of motion, clothing so eloquently and thoroughly
indicate all ingenuous truth about man and his life that do not need
any psychoanalysis. Often the women dance with women. Apparently,
just because most men do not know how or dance, or too drunk, and
"Huculka with this partner turns into wild disarray sharpanynu who"
runs "in the instinct of self-destruction to you. Generally, if you want to know the person and determine its congeniality - invite her to dance ...
Galina was born in the village PETROSANYAK Cheremoshna Verhovinskogo region of Ivano-Frankivsk region. The
author of poetry collections "Park on the slope" (1996) and "light
ends" (2000), translator of Czech and German, a teacher of rhetoric. Winner of the German literary prize Hubert Burda, annually awarded to the Eastern lyrics.
Lyrics translated in English, German, Polish, Czech, Russian and Belarusian languages. Participant in international poetry festivals. Organized readings for German journalists.
...
I thought about it, when a year ago was at a wedding in the mountains,
and my gutsulskie genes drove me to dance, no matter with whom. Everyone who danced knew in childhood. One
of my partners, especially dancing furiously, building up speed,
krutyachy me that one, the other side, lifting off the ground. However, he does not deny the good sense of rhythm and a certain elegance - monotonous dance moves he once tried to diversify. I
do not know how to feel the rhythm, but the monotony is not tolerated
and in life - from fifteen years ago married a young beautiful wife,
made her children - somewhere out of six - binge and brawl brought it
to mind and left the turbidity with children ...
Nowhere
truth Children - Ukrainian mentality still inherent masochism,
fostering the position of offering both public and on the personal
level. Hucul,
despite all their often operated kichem svobodolyubyvist independence
and, most importantly - despite the love of life, unconditional
nekichevu life stability and endurance, which is impossible without the
force of spirit, sometimes like to be victimized. Life
is difficult, and responsible for everything that happens in it, it is
often unsustainable - and wants to translate it to someone or
something. The easiest way to translate evil fate, so much so that one knows well, where it is taken, who it determines. Most comfortable to think that God. For God's somehow easier to endure.
Although, as for me, God is nothing to do.
Inevitability and "sacrality" evil fate ospivuyetsya in the wedding ritual songs. Rite vyvodyn young - one of the strongest childhood memories. Tipsy wedding guests dies, suvorishayut, uzyavshys hands slowly kruzhat around the table, while winding sad. Monotonic slow melody, depressive words, listening to what I thought: I will never be married:
Zashumily Bukovynka, EC sy developed, cried divchynochka, EC'm vyddavala.
Oh no noise Bukovynka and neither rozvyvaysy, nor mourning, nor crying, divchynochko and neither vyddavaysy ...
Cried divchynochka the third Wednesday of EC fate disaster struck in face in front ...
In
gutsulskom folklore is seen as for me, Through feature art in general:
discord, destruction, deterioration, disorientation, violence to art
far more productive than harmony, order, prosperity, clarity and peace.
Generally, the evil in the arts - especially in the present - more productively than good. Satan - great aesthetes and absolutely exceptional artist. Rambo was right: wonderful flowers of evil, at least they seem to us like this. But the fruit that zav'yazuyutsya after these flowers - unexpectedly lethal.
Another reality, without which barely obhodylos hutsulske wedding of my childhood - a fight. After the wedding vividly discussed the details: who, whom, for what, what and how to beat. You know how it is - aggressive male energy, provoked vodka seeking out. A certain type of men in this state just actively "looking for apples" - begs for assault and battery. In the course went not only fans, but the pins, bottles, occasionally occurred even knifing. Who dare not realize their potential soldier in a public situation, the way to beat his own wife a wedding. Beating women - is generally very important and stable element gutsulskoy culture ...
In old photographs - neighbors. Many were already there, many died prematurely. How fucking Mehedyn, father of my first girlfriend Lena. Light noble face, wavy hair with a little red tint, smiling eyes. Fucking was special - to us, small children, he walked on an equal footing. He was the soul of any society, open, hardworking and willing to help. Now it could be a bit of seventy. Somewhere in the ninetieth he went near the house cut fog, a little later his wife found him dead on the field. The reason could be the same cirrhosis since late fucking loved to drink. When
Sunday evening he returned drunk from the village, the entire stream
zdryhavsya from his classic "Auf", which he - a child of war - all
cried Lada ...
People move away, new born, and a great hutsulske marriage lasts. The
trouble there is dancing frenzied "Huculka with joy and love of life,
next to the tree there abound wedding flowers of evil, hard everyday as
annoying wedding guests, not climbed from the table from Saturday to
Saturday. There excessively drink cheap vodka, beating women and children, there tercentenary ritual songs sung mixed with Russian popsa. But there still are able to share the latest, the pride they have not eclipse the people of the world. Therefore, the twilight of this world, there does not seem so obvious.
The material used photos from private albums residents Cheremoshna.
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